


Southern Fried Paris

by SeemaG



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Challenge Response, Episode Related, F/M, Fair Haven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 17:03:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19891306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeemaG/pseuds/SeemaG
Summary: A glitch in the Fair Haven program has Tom scrambling for answers in the holodeck.





	Southern Fried Paris

**Author's Note:**

  * For [monkee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monkee/gifts).



> A response to monkee's country song challenge. Rocky made me do it. Her fault.
> 
> Originally posted in 2004. There have been some revisions to this version.

Tom Paris entered the holodeck and stopped short. Harry had told him something was wrong with the Fair Haven program, but this... _this_ was completely unexpected.

The air was heavy with grease and tobacco, and given the dimly lit interior, he could barely make out the pool table in the corners.

"Are you just going to stand there all day?"

Tom whirled around to face one of the largest men he had ever seen.

"I'm Dwayne Montgomery. I own this place," the man said, his lip curling as he surveyed Tom from head to toe. "Let’s be clear: I run a fine establishment, the finest in Old Dime Box. Only place in the town worthy of the name Old Dime Box. So, if you just got out of prison, you best get moving, because this is a place for good people, not low life vagrants."

Tom blinked. "Old Dime Box? Prison?"

Dwayne Montgomery stared. "Are you drunk? I don’t have time for drunks here."

Tom shook his head. He wasn't drunk, hadn't been for years, and had no intention of getting drunk.

"I actually thought I was in... Fair Haven," Tom said cautiously. He took a step forward, carefully evaluating the interior of the bar. The rundown condition of the place was in direct contrast to the quaintness of the Fairhaven pubs.

"I’ve never heard about Fair Haven," Dwayne said with a scowl that made it clear he wasn’t the type to give directions to the lost. “You going to stay or not? Paying customers only."

Tom glanced around. Except for three men clustered around the pool table, there was no one else in the place. In the corner, he noticed a hound dog sulking, its long face resting on the dirty wood floor.

“I’m new here,” Tom said, thinking quickly. How could the Fairhaven program have gotten _this_ corrupted? He’d been through nearly every scenario in _Voyager_ ’s library over the past five years, and he couldn’t recollect anything that seemed remotely like this one. “I’m still trying to get my bearings.

"If you didn’t just come from prison, how did you get here? We don’t get a lot of visitors, since we’re well off the highway. Did you come in on the train?" Dwayne asked. He squinted and his lips parted slightly to reveal a gap between his front two teeth. "Or did you hitchhike a ride with one of the truckers? You aren’t from this area, I can tell that for sure.” A note of triumph slipped into Dwayne’s voice as he made the revelation. “Who taught you to dress anyway, your mama?"

Tom looked down at his outfit. He had dressed in traditional turn of the century Irish garb, intending to spend the day in Fairhaven, but apparently, not. The glitch in the program was obviously more serious than Harry had suggested.

"No, I didn't come from the prison and I didn't come in on the train," Tom said firmly. Now, as he strained to listen, he could hear the rattle of wheels on track in the distance.

"So, you came in with one of the truckers.” Dwayne seemed satisfied. "Then why didn’t you just say so?"

"Sorry," Tom said. Already he was thinking about how to fix the program. He hypothesized a small program had managed to loop itself into Fair Haven's parameters, overwriting the primary execution file. Tom wondered who on the crew would want to recreate a dingy bar in a middle of nowhere town. Clearly there had to be some sentimental value, perhaps the memory of a favorite hang-out back home. At any rate, he knew he had to replace the bad functions; there would be a mutiny on _Voyager_ if the Fair Haven program did not come back online in a few hours.

"Do you mind if I take a look around your fine establishment?" Tom asked. He smiled his most charming smile, hoping to soften the owner's scowl. "Some friends are coming into town to meet me and if it is all right, I thought I'd wait out the weather here. You wouldn't want to send a man out into that cold rain now, would you?"

Dwayne considered the statement and then nodded. "You're right. My mama would consider it inhospitable to send a man out there. Times like this, that rain could damn well chill you right to the bone."

"Thanks," Tom said. “I’m just going to look around, if you don’t mind.”

“Suit yourself,” Dwayne said with a shrug.

Tom sauntered over to the wall opposite of the pool table where the control panel was hidden behind the dartboard. He noted Dwayne had joined the pool players, so Tom removed the dartboard quickly and snapped open the panel. After calling up the program and running through its algorithms quickly, he thought he spotted the problem. It would only take a few minutes to restore the program's original settings back to the Fairhaven program, using an earlier backup of the program to overwrite the malicious code. His fingers played across the console quickly, the computer occasionally beeping at him. Tom glanced over his shoulder quickly and noticed Dwayne looking in his direction. Tom closed the panel and replaced the dartboard. "Sorry about the noise. My, um, watch went off unexpectedly."

Dwayne's eyes narrowed as he approached Tom. "Your... watch?"

Tom glanced at his wrist. Damn. No watch. "I dropped it-- you said this is the finest restaurant in Old Dime Box?" Tom laid stress on the word "the," hoping Dwayne would get a sense that he was impressed with this establishment.

Dwayne's expression did not change. Tom took a step backward. If the bartender had been a woman, he would have tried smiling again, but it appeared Dwayne was not inclined to succumb to flattery. Not for the first time, Tom wished B'Elanna would accompany him to some of these holodeck simulations. Never underestimate the charm of a beautiful woman, Tom thought, but of course B'Elanna didn't care for these kinds of programs and in fact, their last fight had been about Fairhaven and how much time he spent frequenting the pubs and flirting with the Irish lasses.

Tom's eyes widened.

"Oh damn," he said. "I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before... _she_ did this."

Now the bar’s owner looked startled. "Who did what? Who are you talking about?” And then with a sigh of exasperation, Dwayne said “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

"No, no," Tom sighed. Without thinking, he plopped himself into a chair. "My girlfriend. She-- she doesn't like how much time I spend in Fair Haven. I bet she did this to get back at me for missing our last date because I was tied up... here. And now--" Tom's voice drifted off in realization-- "I'm missing another date!"

At that moment, the door to the bar swung open and B'Elanna Torres walked in purposefully. She wore jeans and a plaid shirt, in direct contrast to Tom's brown pants, vest and white linen shirt. Fine leather boots completed the outfit, and by the slight sway of her hips, Tom knew she was very comfortable in the outfit. Almost too comfortable, he thought with a shiver and the realization that yes, he was going to die shortly.

"That's her," Tom said, deciding he was very glad that his last moments would be spent looking at B’Elanna in _that_ outfit.

Dwayne let out a low whistle. "Now she's a nice cool drink of water. You don't see that kind of woman too often in around here."

"You watch it," Tom said. "She can be--" His voice trailed off as B'Elanna spotted him and made a beeline towards him.

"Is this seat taken?" B'Elanna asked coyly. She pulled out the chair directly in front of Tom and sat down, an insolent grin crossing her face. Tom raised an eyebrow. "So, are you boys talking about me?"

"Um..." Tom said. He didn't know quite what to say. He expected B'Elanna to be angry with him, but in fact, she seemed to be enjoying herself. And if he wasn't mistaken, she was drawing out every syllable as she ran her tongue lightly over her lips. He grinned. He was saved. "You know a beautiful woman always merits attention."

"Now that's what I like to hear," B'Elanna said. She leaned forward, her mouth parting slightly. "You look like my type."

Tom grinned. "Glad to hear it." He turned his attention back to Dwayne. "Um, some privacy?"

Dwayne crossed his arms against his chest. "No order, no sit."

Tom exchanged a look with B'Elanna. She looked perfectly comfortable and he knew that expression on her face: she wasn't going anywhere.

"All right," Tom said. "I'll have a beer then. B'Elanna?"

B'Elanna cocked her head to the side, an unusually coy smile curling up her lips.

"You know, I usually prefer a gin and tonic," she said. She flashed a smile at Tom, her fingers reaching out to stroke the top of his hand lightly. Tom felt the faintest of stirrings within, the type of reaction only B'Elanna could elicit from him. "But I'm still in the mood to shake things up. I'll have a martini."

**Author's Note:**

> monkee's challenge was to use the following words in a fic: mama, trucks, trains, prisons, getting drunk and cold rain, with bonus points for throwing in a hound dog.


End file.
